Introducing: Eloise
by Funnel-Of-Truth
Summary: After all these years at Hogwarts we've heard of her, but seldom seen, the notorious Eloise Midgen. A lot has changed since her fourth year, including her newfound muggle friends that she's been writing letters to. What will happen when their two worlds


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Chapter One: Eloise

A/N: Not the best beginning ever, but it serves its purpose to open the story. Be forewarned, it just sort of jumps right into... nothing. =P 

"My brain cells are fried," Hannah announced to the table, dropping her school bag down next to her. "That last transfiguration test was a killer."

Eloise nodded silently, biting down on her lower lip thoughtfully. She quickly scribbled down an idea running through her head for a muggle studies assignment that was to be due the next week.

"McGonigal hasn't been a big help, either. She marked me off because my coffee table's wood design looked to much like the block of marble we used to make it. Can you believe it? I'm no architect, what does she expect?"

She nosily peered over Eloise's shoulder and wrinkled her features. "What are you writing?"

"Muggle studies," was her answer.

She sniffed. "Don't know why you'd waste your time with that class. I don't this your third year taking it? How much can you possibly want to know about blenders and splatchoolas?"

Eloise hid a short giggle. "Spatulas," she corrected.

"Whatever. Seems like a total bore." Hannah said with a shrug.

"Professor Moore says that muggle studies have the potential to enlighten wizard society," Eloise said in her defense.

"Yeah, if by enlighten you mean reverse the evolutionary process. But anyway, I got full marks on everything else, including potions..."

Eloise had to keep from shaking her head. By now she was used to Hannah's ignorant rants and quick judgments. She was smart, without a doubt, but her social skills usually left a giant wake behind her. Eloise didn't mind, though. She had few friends, but where wizard and witch friends were absent, she had muggle pen pals. Never mind that Eloise's last name dated back to a long line of one of the few pureblood families. It had started as an innocent project her first year of the course in which they were assigned to keep in contact with a muggle for three weeks without ever letting on that she was a witch. At first it was difficult, and her pen pal and her had miniscule topics to discuss, but once they began to open up on more personal levels and Eloise had learned the colloquial language of her muggle friend, everything flowed smoother. She had four different contacts now, one from Ireland, North America, a British village in Africa, and, closely, London. They were her only outlet to the trouble that she faced at Hogwarts. Most students at her school took to Hogwarts immediately, but ELoise was not one of these people. Acceptance never came to her, and even now in her sixth year coming to an end, she felt completely isolated from her class.

Quietly, as Hannah continued jabbering on, she picked up her books and quill to leave. Apparently studying in the house common room had not been the best place to write a letter, so she headed towards the library. She observed the portraits watching her mindlessly until she came upon a particularly snooty looking girl not much older than she.

"Well if it isn't my evil twin," said the portrait nastily.

"Good afternoon Julianna," Eloise said with a sigh. Her shoulders hunched under the weight of her books as she came to a stop.

"There you go again," the portrait said with a cluck of her tongue," Talking down to me as if you were actually superior." She said all of this with such a ridiculously loud huff that it was hard to take her seriously. "Well you're not better than me, Mr. Eloise. In fact, I'm ashamed to associate myself with you as my evil twin. Ugly twin, is much more like it."

"Ever wonder why you don't make friends, Jules?' Eloise scolded, ignoring Julianna's attacks. The portrait glared at her.

"I have more friends than you," she claimed, flipping her silky long hair over her shoulder.

"Isn't that the truth," Eloise uttered to herself as she continued down the hallway without a sufficient goodbye. She often wondered what did drive her to stop and talk to Julianna nearly everyday. She'd grown complacent against her cold accusations, being used to them by now, and was somehow completely fascinated with the picture. From the moment she was irrevocably drawn to the painting in her first year, she'd always thought of some one she once knew but could never recognize as Julianna. Her beauty was quite noticeable, with light blonde, wavy hairy and bright blue eyes that burned with a scathing fire when she was spouting insults at the students. 

Once, the picture had compared herself with Eloise, who could have looked identically beautiful if her hair wasn't so limp and stringy and her eyes not faded to a dull brown, and if her skin had been as flawless as Jule's. What's more, Eloise had no amount of fire or spark in her besides her passion of writing to her muggle friends, and that could hardly be misconstrued for beauty. There was no time for wishful thinking nowadays, anyway, and instead of ever actually becoming a match for Jules in the physical department, she'd adopted the name 'evil twin' with great reluctance. It was just as well, and better than some of the other things other students called her when they though she wasn't listening. Besides, there was a small comfort in being called Jule's evil twin, for Eloise took great pride in her lack of similarity to Julianna's poison- smothered disposition. It was good to know that not all of Eloise was something to be made fun of.

When she entered the library, she settled on a small nook that was out of the way from the rest of the students. The table she sat at had only two chairs, and there were small scorch marks on the surface of the table where some students had obviously been playing exploding snap. Either that or some one's fire spell had gone out of hand. She could just imagine the look on Madame Pince's face had either of the two instances occurred in her library. One in which there was excessive amounts of noise to draw the attention away from her studying pupils and another that could have catastrophic effects on the volumes of books present.

As if she could read her mind, Madame Pince strode by the table, sniffing at the scorch marks and throwing Eloise a pointed look. Eloise shrugged, reopened her parchment and continued writing to her friend Eddie, in London.

__

End of the year finals were not as bad this year as they were before. Although all of my teacher's are getting on my case to start studying for a much larger test I'll be taking at the end of next year, I'm not too worried about it. I already have it in my mind as to what I want to do the moment I graduate. I might as well skip the last year of school and hop onto my career immediately, and avoid all of this education nonsense. Listen to me, I'm just sick of school; completely ready for summer vacation.

So do you have any major plans for this summer? I'll probably just sit around the house and read a few books. That is, of course, after I finish the homework they give me which really shouldn't take too long at all-

Eloise sighed as she looked at the letter. No new information, and her writing was becoming quite stale. She longed to tell him about Hogwarts, about all the magic that surrounded her because it was really quite fascinating. Even though she'd grown up with it all her life, she was sure that he would feel the same way about her school as she did about his ordinary muggle life, and she wanted to give him something in return. Alas, it was against the law. She couldn't reveal herself even if she wanted to because she'd probably end up in Azkaban for endangering everyone in the wizard community.

She folded up the unfinished letter and slid it carefully back into her bag. Heavily, she wound her way around several giggling Ravenclaws and into the fictional section of the library. Her fingers traced the spines of the many covers that eagerly shook to be read. She grinned when she saw 'Martin the Muggle', a book she'd read two years prior that was absolutely the least accurate depiction of muggle life that she'd ever laid her eyes upon. She pulled out the book and fondly skimmed the contents of the first paragraph.

"Martin the Muggle?" came a laughing voice. "That's got to be the most amusing piece of fiction I've ever read."

"Hey Hermione," Eloise said while placing the book back on its shelf.

"I'm not bothering you, am I Eloise? Because I have an essay I could be writing right now. I just had to get away from Harry and Ron for a moment," she said in an annoyed whisper.

"Company is always welcome. Besides, I haven't talked to you in ages," said Eloise.

"I know, its been far too long. Remember last year when we worked after hours on potions? Its too bad that you're not taking that class anymore because those were some good times."

Eloise laughed lightly. "As much fun as we had failing miserably at conjuring a love potion that doesn't even exist, I think I could do mighty fine without ever taking potions again."

"True, true. Snape has been working our class like dogs, he has. Be thankful you're not in it." And for a moment, Hermione almost looked regretful at taking the class. The look vanished immediately. "As I was saying, we should really hang out again some time. Are you vacationing anywhere this summer?"

Eloise shook her head. "Nope. I'll be home."

Hermione's features brightened. "Maybe you can come over sometime, then."

She nodded. "Alright."

"...well if Hermione was here like she's supposed to be then I wouldn't be stuck on this problem, now would I Harry?" drifted a voice too loud to be subtle.

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. "I got to go. Duty calls. Bye, then."

"Bye."

Eloise picked up a book randomly and peered out across the shelves to wear Hermione had sat back down next to Harry and Ron. She tried not to make herself look too obvious, as she watched with curious glances. She didn't know how Hermione did it, her two best friends were _boys_. Eloise doubted that she'd ever talked to a boy in her life, let alone had a friend as close as Harry or Ron were to Hermione. She didn't count Eddie, he was merely some one she could talk to through letters. He wasn't aware of what really went on during her time at Hogwarts, which was a good thing. She feared that if he saw the real her, he might never write a letter to her again.

She reluctantly returned to her seat with the book and took out the letter. She ripped the parchment in half and tossed it into a wastebasket not far away. Opening the book, she began to read on the curses that guard the tombs of Egypt, in Africa...


End file.
